


Built This Way

by OneStarryNight



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Communication is Sexy, Crying, Cuddling, Established Relationship, Establishing boundaries, F/M, Heteronormative Language, Heteronormativity, Heterosexual!Furiosa, Hyposexual Max, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Kissing, Mentions of Past Sexual Trauma, Mildly Dubious Consent, Past Max/Jessie Rockatansky, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sex-Indifferent Max, asexual!max, pressured into sex, talking about sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:27:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29722062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneStarryNight/pseuds/OneStarryNight
Summary: He should really say something, tell her that for him it’s not a matter of waiting. Tell her that he’s spent his whole life waiting for sex to be something he wants, and it never has.Max and Furiosa are in a romantic nonsexual relationship. When Furiosa says she wants more, Max has to decide if that’s something he can give her. Warnings for mild dubcon and offensive language.
Relationships: Furiosa/Max Rockatansky
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15
Collections: Mad Max Kink Meme





	1. I Never Promise Anymore

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this Mad Max Kink Meme prompt: “I want Max has ALWAYS been an asexual. He had a long-term relationship with his police partner, after the end of the world. They struggled with the end of the world, and with their joint desire for children and his lack of any sex drive. They wound up either having her get knocked up by another or some form of artificial insemination, and Max was daddy and husband in every place and way except the marriage bed sense. I want him, with his lack of words and broken communication to try and, explain to the wives, and the wives trying to be understanding, but kindly assuming it's the PTSD, or trying to explain it or help him. Nothing malicious, just, no one in the citadel knows what sexuality or gender IS, Joe having Cis Hetero for Baby Making is the ONLY way as default. So, I just- I really want the broken communicator, the man who remembers pre-end of the world, to try and communicate sexualities and asexuality and the difference between love attraction and sex attraction... Because it tickles me and feeds a need inside me.” https://madmaxkink.dreamwidth.org/450.html?thread=303810#cmt303810
> 
> There are a lot of great ‘platonic Max & Furiosa’ fics, and a lot of ‘Max and Furiosa work out their emotional shit before having sex’ fics, but I haven’t seen anything where they’re romantic and sex is not the end goal they’re working towards, or something they both want, or at least want to want. So, I wrote this.
> 
> Please read the tags and note the warnings. This fic contains dubcon elements in Chapter Two where Furiosa and Max try having sex, but they stop as soon as he makes his discomfort clear. It also contains what might be considered offensive questions and attitudes towards asexuals and homosexuals, but that come from a place of ignorance with no malice. Flashback to Max’s past in Chapter One contains homophobic language. Please don’t read if this makes you uncomfortable. Work and chapter titles taken from Built This Way by Samantha Ronson.

It’s almost impossible to say no to Furiosa. Max looks at her and realizes that if she’d said, “Let’s drive out into the waste with no backup plan,” he’d go with her. Or, “I need you to stand on your head while I fall asleep,” he’d ask if he should stay there until she woke up. Not that Furiosa was controlling or anything. Max just… he can’t resist her, can’t resist making her happy, doing everything in his power to please her.

Which is why, when Furiosa breaks away from their gentle make out session while they’re lying in bed and says, “Do you want to have sex?” he doesn’t say no, at least not right away. He looks at her, the way she’s staring at his lips, how her eyes have gone dark, and wonders whether that is something he can do for her.

Truth be told, Max is perfectly happy with how their relationship is right now. They’ve moved past being trusted fellow fighters and past trusted fellow friends. Now they’re trusted… well, whatever they are now. Fighters and friends who share a bed and trade kisses, who stay up when the other’s sick at night and give each other foot massages. Partners who comfort each other after a bad nightmare and enjoy the laughter and ease the other gives them. Max loves it, loves how comfortable he feels with Furiosa, like she’s a part of him somehow.

They don’t have sex though. Furiosa had told him that right before she kissed him for the first time. He remembers how she looked, fierce and yet vulnerable as she’d said, “I’m not having sex with you.” He remembers the relief on her face when he’d just nodded and hadn’t asked why. And he remembers how eventually she’d grown to trust him enough to kiss him passionately and lie in bed with him while they’re both fully clothed and not worry that he would take advantage or be displeased with everything stopping there.

Now though, Furiosa is asking if he wants to have sex. And while in general her bluntness is appreciated, right now he feels flustered, unsure of how to answer. So, he falls back on the old classic and ask her a question in return.

“Do you want to?” she looks at him and nods, causing Max’s stomach sinks a little. Okay, so she’s not just asking to make sure he doesn’t want more. She’s asking because she does. “Why? I mean you, mm, changed your mind?”

She shrugs one shoulder and moves her hand to trace his bottom lip. “I always wanted to eventually. I just needed… time. And the right person.” She looks at Max with such trust and affection and his heart squeezes and the thought that he’s the one she chose. A part of him feels honored and privileged that Furiosa, who could have anyone, would want him like that.

Another part of him though is starting to feel apprehensive and shy at the way Furiosa is staring at him, touching his face. She’s waiting for an answer still, he can tell. But Max suddenly can’t find his tongue, can’t speak. He can’t tell her that no, he doesn’t want to have sex actually, because saying no to Furiosa is, like he said, close to impossible. But he can’t tell her yes either, because just thinking about it makes him uneasy.

Max gently pulls her hand away from his face and kisses her. “Hm, maybe later. Can talk about it later.”

She looks mildly surprised, as though she expected Max to jump at the opportunity. “Really? Do you want to wait?” She pauses, and when he doesn’t reply says, “I can wait, like you waited for me.”

Max just hums and goes back to kissing her. Furiosa settles into the kiss, obviously satisfied that she got it right. She probably thinks he wants to, but wants to be sure she does, or needs more time to work though it on his own. He should really say something, tell her that for him it’s not a matter of waiting. Tell her that he’s spent his whole life waiting for sex to be something he wants, and it never has.

But that would mean talking, which would mean he’d have to stop kissing Furiosa, and he really doesn’t want to do either of those things. So, he keeps kissing her, slow gentle pecks as she drifts asleep by his side.

~~~~~

He knows this subject won’t go away. Furiosa will bring it up again, if not tomorrow then the next day, or the next week, or the next month. He’ll have to have an answer for her, and he really isn’t sure what it should be.

Max thinks about it the next morning, after they’ve parted ways for the day, she to the cisterns to help with some pipe damage and he to the garages. Now that he’s settled under the undercarriage of some rig he has time to think and realize the full implication of Furiosa’s offer. Because while Furiosa will wait, he doesn’t know what she’ll do if he tells her ‘never’ instead of ‘someday’. Never is a long time, Max knows this, knows the unambiguity and finality that comes with telling your partner that ‘maybe’ has given way to ‘no’.

A ball of worry burrows its way into his gut. What would Furiosa do if he said no? Would she understand? Would she decide that Max isn’t worth it if sex can’t be a part of their relationship anymore? Can he really blame her if she does, if he can’t offer her something that most couples consider so foundational? What would _he_ do if she told him she didn’t want him anymore? Max forcibly wrenches his thoughts out of that spiral because it’s too much, he can’t think about that without descending into a panic.

If there’s anyone who is likely to accept him it’s Furiosa, given her previous aversion for sex. But again, never is a long time and even Furiosa, if she’s decided she has those desires, is unlikely to be satisfied with never. Fuck, why is this so hard? Why can’t he just want this like everyone else?

It feels like several lifetimes ago, but Max remembers when his adolescent indifference to sex became clear. It was the time his friends showed him an adult calendar which featured naked women draped over the sports car of the month. His only reaction had been annoyance that all these bodies were obstructing his view of the cool rides. He remembers the other boys’ disbelief and derision when he’d pointed this out as an obvious flaw. That was also the start of Max’s realization that his indifference wasn’t normal, and that it marked him as different, different from everyone he knew.

The memories are cloudy with disuse, but still there. Max remembers the endless obsession all his friends had with girls, how repetitive and boring he found it when they talked about making it to second base. How unappealing the thought of going down on girl was, how strange it was that high heels apparently made a girl’s legs sexy. He couldn’t see it, didn’t understand why a girl in a bikini could be a fantasy to jerk off to.

Max understood jerking off, he’d done it often enough. It was just necessary sometimes, a physical response his teenage body wanted, and he didn’t see the point in denying it. But he didn’t think about girls while he did it either, didn’t fantasize about fucking them, didn’t imagine it was their hands on him.

He’d tried kissing girls, and that had been nice, even enjoyable. He liked kissing and cuddling because it was often simple and soft and the girls liked it because he didn’t get hard, which apparently made him a gentleman. But eventually the girls would want to move beyond just kissing, would want him to stop being such a gentleman, and he couldn’t, even though he’d tried.

Then they’d call him gay and break up with him, and Max would be devastated. He’d promise himself that the next girl would be different, that he really would like it when the she took of her top or touched his cock. But each time he didn’t, and each time he got more and more scared that this wasn’t going to change. More and more worried that he’d never experience what all the world around him seemed say was the fundamental essence of being a man.

By the time he’d entered the police academy, Max had concluded he must be gay. It didn’t really feel right to him, liking men that way, the way he couldn’t like women. But that was probably just because he didn’t know what he was doing. He just needed to find someone who would show him how to do it right, how to finally like sex properly.

That’s why he hooked up with a fellow cadet on graduation night and ended up exchanging handjobs in a broom closet. It was his first and last orgasm with a partner and it had been… fine. Not terrible or traumatic, but also not what he knows sex is supposed to be; not mind-blowing, spectacular, fun, or even enjoyable really. He’d tried though, tried to want it months later with another man in a motel room. But he couldn’t even keep his erection that time and had left, scared of what was wrong with him, angry at himself for not being able to like it.

Because as disastrous as being gay was, as dangerous as it would be for his career in law enforcement, at least it would be _something_. At least with being gay he would _know_ , even if it could only ever be a secret, hidden away from his colleagues and respectable society. It felt like he had a secret anyway, a secret that was hidden even from him, locked away in his body and mind that he couldn’t really understand.

And then Max had meet Jessie. He still can’t look directly that those memories, they are raw and tender even in the ages that have since passed. But he remembers the feelings. How much he’d loved Jessie, _loved_ her, more than any other women or man he’d known. How terrified he’d felt when she’d finally wanted to have sex and he’d had to tell her he just couldn’t.

He remembers his shock and overwhelming relief when she hadn’t broken up with him after that. The comfort she’d given him when she’d said it was fine, she loved him anyway. The awe at her patience with him when he couldn't feel the same, when over and over again he’d try for her and fail. He remembers the vulnerability when they’d discussed having children, his awkwardness and guilt that he couldn’t give Jessie that. How appreciative he’d been when she’d suggested using the turkey baster, the liberation when he realized it might be possible if he could just get it up on his own.

Mostly Max remembers the joy when it had worked, when Jessie had told him she was pregnant. The overpowering sense of protectiveness and breathtaking love he’d felt when he held Sprog for the first time. How he’d wept with happiness because it was all worth it now. All the years of uncertainty and fear over what he was, all the guilt over the ways he could never be enough for a partner were gone, didn’t matter anymore. None of it mattered because he had a family now, a family he could love in his own way.

And then. Well, then they were gone, along with his sanity and civilization, and sex and attraction became the very last thing he’d had to think about. Survival was what became key, and Max was able to lock away his secret along with all the other guilt he carried with him. The voices didn’t torment him about that at least.

His own desire became nonexistent, which was probably the only positive thing about the harsh reality of living in the wasteland. No precious water had to be traded with a prostitute for physical relief. No offers of sex ever lead him to let his guard down enough to be stabbed in his sleep. No female bait standing naked and alone was enticing enough get him to fall into some trap.

Too much time passed, and Max couldn’t keep track of the days he’d been alone. When he’d kissed Furiosa that first time he tried to remember how long it had been since he’d done that and couldn’t. He was genuinely surprised that he’d been able to kiss her, that his ability to trust another person that way wasn’t completely dead as he’d thought. And then she trusted him back, and it was like he was a starving man who had to have someone tell him he was hungry.

Because suddenly all he could do was soak up her affection, bask in the glow of her warm smiles and gentle kisses. It was so soothing to hold her close and have her hold him. At times it threatened to overwhelm him, the tenderness with which she would touch him and look at him. He ached with how much he’s missed this, and at the same time felt such sweet relief that now, after all that time alone, there was someone to hold again, in his arms and his heart. Max could admit that he’d fallen in love with Furiosa, if only to himself. Like he’d said, he couldn’t resist wanting to please her, even when it came to sex.

It’s been so long since he’s tried. He’s a different man in so many ways since before the world burned, maybe in that way as well. Maybe with Furiosa it’ll be different. She’s already awakened parts of himself that he thought were dead and buried, feelings he never thought he could experience again. Maybe she can do this too, awake in him something no one else has been able to. If anyone can, if it’s physically possible, it would be Furiosa.

Max shakes his head, realizing that he’s been staring at the undercarriage for who knows how long, lost in a daze of his own thoughts. He rolls out and looks around, but no one seems to have noticed. He’s pretty much left to his own devices when in the garage unless he requests help. He rolls back under and takes a deep breath, trying to still the flitter of nerves that are still roiling through him. He’s decided at least, there’s that. Now he’ll just wait for Furiosa, and hope that this time, when she asks, he’ll be ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure: I am not asexual, nor do I personally know anyone who is (or at least no one who has disclosed that to me). But I do live in a sex-obsessed culture and understand the discomfort and stigma that can come when you don’t fall in line with that. I was drawn to write this fic mostly to explore how Max would work through those feelings and come to accept himself.
> 
> Obviously not all ace people are the same or feel the same way about sex and attraction as my Max here does. www.asexuality.org is a great resource if you are interested in learning more. I’m open to feedback and constructive criticism as always, especially if you are asexual and have any thoughts about how I’ve written Max.
> 
> Also, handwaving away the timeline here. I’m not going with Max is immortal for this fic since he ages and goes through puberty, adolescence, etc. Yet he experiences a world before the wasteland, circa the 1970s of the original movies when being an openly gay police officer was Not A Thing, at least where I live. How long it’s been, how he remembers the world before when other characters don’t… Well, George Miller didn’t bother answering that, so neither will I lol.


	2. You Think You'll Figure Me Out Tonight

Several days go by without Furiosa mentioning sex again, and Max starts to relax. It could be she changed her mind and decided that this was enough. Maybe they can just keep on like this, being close and not needing anything more.

But that hope disintegrates one morning when Max wakes to find himself curled around her. His face is tucked in between her shoulder and neck, his arm slung around her middle with their fingers intertwining. He ducks his head and inhales the sleep scent of her, snuggles even closer. This, this moment here, is perfection, Max thinks drowsily.

Furiosa wakes a moment later and rolls onto her back, stretching luxuriously. "Hey” she yawns up at him, and he can’t help but give her a gentle smile in return. They’re quit for a moment until he hears her murmur, “Have you thought any more about what I asked? About having sex?”

Oh shit. She’s asking him, he has to say something. Max’s brain shuts down for a moment and he hastily tries to reboot it to produce something besides ‘oh shit, shit, shit.’

Warily he asks, “Hm, you want to, still?” Instead of answering, she pulls him on top of her and starts kissing him, deep and slow. Okay, he’ll take that as a yes. He kisses her back automatically and forces himself to breathe.

He had already decided to say yes when she asks, he reminds himself. He’s going to do this, and it’s going to be okay. He feels a rush of determination and decides that this time it’ll work, he’ll like it.

He pushes himself up onto his elbows and looks down at her. “Okay. Yeah, we can.” He smiles at her and believes, for one beautiful moment, he can do this, he can be this for her. For Furiosa.

Normally Furiosa doesn’t like him over top of her like this, but she’s not moving, is smiling up at him encouragingly. Then it hits him. She wants to right now. Wants to have sex right here, in their _bed_ , before they’ve even eaten breakfast. Mothers, who has sex before they’ve eaten breakfast?

Max sits up abruptly “No. Not, not now. I mean, after breakfast. I mean, later. Mm, we can later, right?” Fuck what’s he even saying? He shuts him mouth with a click and tries to get his heart to stop stuttering in his chest.

Furiosa’s smile drops a little as she takes in his hesitation, but she just nods “Sure, tonight.”

And normally he would sink back down beside her because they have plenty of time for morning kissing before they need to be up. But he can’t with the inevitable handing over him like that now, so he just shuffles of the bed, murmurs some sort of apology about needing to get a head start on the day, leaves as soon as he can. Tonight. They’ve said it, and he’s agreed to try. Tonight he’ll see.

~~~~~

Max is a nervous wreck the rest of the day. He doesn’t see Furiosa at all, which is a bit of a blessing because he doesn’t think he could keep up the impression that he’s looking forward to this.

But that’s okay, lots of people are nervous before they have sex. He knows that’s normal at least. He’s fine, he’ll be fine. It’s just nerves, totally normal. He’s not able to convince himself that it’s excitement or anticipation he feels, but he does try.

The day is a never-ending drag and yet over all too soon, because suddenly it’s evening and he’s outside their room hesitating. He can hear Furiosa in there now. If he goes in he’s going to… they will… It’s _fine_. Telling himself more firmly than before, Max takes a deep breath and opens the door.

Furiosa has removed her prosthetic and is cleaning it, but sets it down once he comes in. “Hey. How was your day?”

Because he can barely remember what he did today, and because he really needs to just get this over with, Max ignores her question and asks, “Do you still want to? Have, um” he licks his lips and forces himself to say it. “sex?”

She tilts her head to look at him and he has a momentary clutch of fear that she’s figured him out, that she knows his secret. But all she does is say seriously, “Do you? It’s okay if not you know.”

Max is strongly tempted to take her up on that. He can already imagine the relief from not having to have sex tonight. But no, he’s going to do this, finally. For her. “No, I’m good. We can.” She just stands there, so he chokes out the words out, the words that are clinging in protest to the back of his throat. “I want to. With you.”

He sees fondness in her eyes mixed together with lust and has to look away. Because although Max will lap up all the affection Furiosa can give him, seeing her want him like that is just uncomfortable. It doesn’t distress him so much as makes him feel awkward and confused, the thought of anyone finding his body sexually desirable. It’s so odd, so far removed from how Max views himself, or anyone else, he almost wants to tell Furiosa to not look at him like that.

But Furiosa’s fine, she’s being totally normal. He’s the one who needs to get it together. He takes a steadying inhale and moves closer to kiss her. This seems to be right move, because she wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him back, deeper.

Okay, this is fine. Max does like kissing, he can do this. He lets her in, lets her kiss him as much as she wants to. There’s still a chance that Furiosa will realize how nice this is and want to stop here.

That chance is slowly fading as she gently backs them towards the bed. He feels the edge of the mattress bump the back of his legs and at her continued light pressure takes his cue and sits down. She follows him, moving to straddle his lap. Her hands run through his hair and yeah, Max likes that. He allows himself a soft moan at the feeling, wishing he could tell that this, simply this is enough, is all he needs.

Furiosa lets go of his hair now and runs her hands slowly underneath his shirt, up his chest. She keeps kissing him, so Max’s gasp is lost in her mouth. It’s nice he supposes, the way her hands feel roaming his naked skin. Maybe he could come to enjoy this. She can probably feel his heart pounding. Hopefully she’ll think it’s from excitement. Hopefully it soon will be.

He tentatively rests his hands on her waist and back and starts moving them slowly. He keeps them on the outside of her top though, isn’t quite sure he can handle feeling her skin yet.

Furiosa doesn’t appear to agree, because she breaks their kiss long enough to pull his shirt off and then remove her own. He forces himself not to shy away under her gaze as she looks at him. Focuses instead on her breasts that are now hanging free.

Max looks at them desperately, trying to fathom how they’d be considered arousing or desirable, begging for it to finally click. He can’t though, can’t bring himself to be turned on by them. Nor Furiosa’s long neck or toned torso, other body parts he knows are considered sexually appealing. And well, he _likes_ it, her body, but that’s because it’s Furiosa and he likes anything that’s hers. He likes that she looks healthy and safe, uninjured, and he likes that she trusts him enough to show him something so intimate.

But he doesn’t feel a spark, turned on, stirred up, revved up, put in gear, doesn’t feel any of the things he’s heard describe what sex makes you feel. Only a creeping sense of dread that this isn’t working.

“Max?” He looks up to meet her slight grin and realizes that he’s been ogling her breasts for a while. He blushes and looks away, feeling embarrassed and exposed. Furiosa just gives a gentle chuckle and takes his hand, pulling it towards her breast. “It’s alright, you can look. That’s why I took off my top, right?”

Max has no reply for that, just gives out a noncommittal hum as his mind races. What’s he supposed to do now? Is he supposed to squeeze it, rub it? Is he supposed to touch the other one? Is he supposed to lean forward and kiss them? He gives an involuntary shudder at the thought and quickly (hopefully not too quickly) moves his hand down towards her waist.

Furiosa doesn’t say anything though, just wiggles back in his lap a bit to palm gently over the front of his trousers while she looks at him. There’s no way he can deny his lack of an erection, and he starts to stammer out an apology, an explanation. But she just kisses him, soft and slow. “It’s alright,” she whispers as she unbuttons his trousers and pulls out his limp cock, becoming the first person to touch him there since before the world burned. “There’s no rush, we can take our time.”

She keeps kissing as she strokes him gently, and Max wills himself to relax. This is okay, he can do this. Just focus on kissing Furiosa, let her handle the rest. It takes a while, but his cock starts to respond to the stimulation and there, he’s got it, he’s hard finally. He just needs to stay that way.

Furiosa’s hand stills and she whispers “okay?” He starts to say something like of course he is, this is totally okay, but then Furiosa stands up and pulls down her own trousers. Suddenly he can see her cunt and he can’t speak, can’t think. He can smell her arousal, can see that she’s turned on by this, by him. “Mothers, you’re so amazing Max,” she murmurs as she starts to settle back onto his lap, and it hits him with a surge of panic. He’s going to have sex with Furiosa, he’s going to touch her cunt, he’s going to be _inside_ her. And just like that his erection’s gone because no, he can’t, he _can’t_.

Max jerks like he’s been stung and abruptly stands up, spilling Furiosa onto the floor. “I can’t, Furi, I can’t. I’m sorry, sorry, I’m sorry.” And he is, sorry he’s so unceremoniously dumped her on the floor, sorry he led her on and got her aroused. Sorry he doesn’t find her desirable like she finds him, sorry he can’t do this, can’t give her what she wants.

Furiosa stands quickly to her feet looking, understandably, flummoxed. “Can’t what?” she asks dumbly, as though it’s not clear. Max just ducks his head as he gets his trousers back on with shaky hands. “Are you not ready?”

He almost sobs, because if only that was it. If only all he needed was time, the right partner, the right amount of love. But he knows now that’s not it, there will never be enough time for him, he will never be ready. He’d known, deep down, but he’d hoped, which was a stupid mistake. Just like he’d told Furiosa all those days ago.

“No, it’s not that. I’m just not, I’m not-“ Max looks at her and takes an unsteady inhale. “’M not attracted to you. Like that. I can’t have sex with you.” There, he said it. It’s out in the open and he can’t take it back, even if it is the truth. Fuck, he’s going to be sick.

Furiosa blinks at him a few times. “You’re gay?” He just shakes his head as he pulls on his shirt. More quietly she asks, “So is it me?”

“No, ‘s not you Furi. Not anyone, just me. I’m… not gay, but not… I’m not.” Not, that’s what he is, he doesn’t know how else to describe it. Not into men, not into women, not into sex at all. He looks down at where he’s fiddling with the hem of his shirt and murmurs, “I thought I could for you, but just…couldn’t. ‘M sorry.”

Furiosa’s quiet as she puts her top back on and pulls up her trousers. She comes over and gently takes his hand in hers which draws his eyes back to her. She’s silent for a moment, then says, “I don’t understand.”

Her face is soft and open, not judging or full of scorn. Instead of explaining, answering her unasked question he says softly, “You’re not mad?”

She blinks in surprise. “No. I’m confused, and I want you to explain. If you can, if you want to.” A flicker of doubt passes through her and Max remembers with a rush of guilt that this is new for her too. This was a big deal and it took a lot of trust for her to get this far. And then he’d rejected her outright. Man, he feels like an asshole.

“Yeah, I can, I will. Explain. But just, before that I, mm, want you to know that it’s not you. You’re fine, didn’t do, ah, anything wrong.”

She ducks her head gives his hand a squeeze. “Okay. I’ll listen, promise. I’ll help if I can. If you want. We’ll get there together.”

He nods slowly. She doesn’t understand yet that there’s no getting there for him on this. She probably thinks he had a flashback or bad memory that he needs to work through, and then he’ll be fine. Probably thinks he’s just further behind the same journey she is and if she waits, he’ll catch up.

Hopefully he can explain to Furiosa the truth. Hopefully she’ll get it and more importantly, not reject him for it. But whatever the outcome he knows he’s done trying, trying to be something he’s not. Even if he can’t work it out with her, there’s no other person he could love enough to even consider it for.

The finality is a bit of a relief. No more hoping yet fearing that next time will be different, no more impending dread because he knows it won’t be. No more guilt because of course it wasn’t. He’s free of it now. That burden lifted, and the chance that Furiosa will understand him if he can just explain, both make Max the calmest he’s been since waking up this morning.

But all of this will have to wait until tomorrow. Max is exhausted, stripped raw in a way he can’t really explain and needs to recover from. No hugging or kissing tonight, just the simple clasping of hands. Max wants to be close, but right now he needs the space more. He’s sorry, but just for tonight. Tomorrow he’ll explain and she can listen.

He tells her this in halting sentences as they make their way into bed. She doesn’t respond for a moment and they lie there, facing each other. Close, but far enough away that only their foreheads and intertwined hands are connecting. Then in a firm but calm voice, “Max? I love you. I just want you to know, no matter what, okay. I love you.”

Now it’s his turn to blink in surprise. The conviction in her tone is a little overwhelming. “I love you too.” He whispers back, not sure if the sentiment can stand yet to said louder. But it’s said, they’ve both said it now. Not that he didn’t know before really, but the reassurance is welcome.

The fact that she choose this moment to confirm her feelings, right after he’d rejected her in such a particular way, it… it makes him… Fuck, she’s too much, he suddenly can’t stand the rush of emotions that come over him. The regret, fear, and guilt all swell, only to be overpowered by the fierce love he allows himself to feel. She _loves_ him, and maybe, maybe, she still will this time tomorrow.

He stares at her sleeping form for a long time and allows himself to hope.


	3. But You'll Never Know What I Won't Share

They both wake up earlier than normal the next morning. Not surprising, seeing as how they went to bed much earlier than they regularly would, and neither of them woke up with any nightmares. Or at least Max didn’t. Furiosa’s nightmares are generally pretty flailing, so if she had he thinks he would have known.

There’s a moment of awkwardness as they look at each other, still bleary with sleep but too awake to fall back into it. The guilt and embarrassment is about to start rushing over Max again when Furiosa asks, “Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, and meets her in the middle for a gentle press of lips. Fuck, how he loves her. He can face anything now, can talk about all of it, now that she’s kissed him. She asked too, and it didn’t sound like she thought he was broken or fragile. But rather like she wanted to be sure she wasn’t overstepping his boundaries.

They break apart after a while and Furiosa tentatively puts her hand up in his hair. “This okay? She asks as she starts to massage his scalp.

“Okay,” he says, and then closes his eyes and groans at the sensation as she tugs and presses deeper, harder. She pulls him towards her and they kiss again, with more urgency. Furiosa rolls onto her back, bringing Max with her with her hand in his hair and her lips on his.

After a moment she lets go of his hair and breaks their kiss. They look at each other, smiling and he rolls off her onto his side. “You didn’t have to move.” she says.

“You don’t like me there. I thought anyway.”

“It makes me think of sex, having you on top like that. So I didn’t like it before, when I wasn’t ready. I don’t really mind now, I don’t think.”

“Hm. I don’t… I can, be up if you like, but can’t, can’t do that. Sex.” He feels himself tense slightly, but it’s out now. They’re going to talk about this, and he’s going to explain, if he can.

“Yeah, you said that last night. Do you mean physically? You got hard then. Although…” Her voice fades away and he can imagine her remembering how he wasn’t hard on his own, didn’t get that way until she touched him.

“No, physically it’s fine. I guess, I haven’t really…” he clears his throat. “that’s not why I can’t. I just don’t want to. At all. ‘N it’s not you.” He hastily adds as he sees her start to look ashamed. “It’s me somehow. I don’t know why, but it’s not…mm, not something I’ve ever been able to. Ever.”

“Never? Not even… truly never?” There’s a bit of disbelief now when she looks at him, and he tries not to let that sting as he shakes his head. “Did anything happen when you were a kid?”

“No, I don’t…” He doesn’t think so, that doesn’t feel right. Max’s childhood is hazy at best, and he knows its possible to block out traumatic memories. But his disinterest doesn’t flow from a bad experience he’s sure. “Nothing happened, it just is, always has been.”

“Are you sure it’s not because of something that’s happened since then? That, you know, made you afraid, not want it? Not even something about sex, just-” she waves her hand as though to encompass all the horrors held in their fallen world. “a bad experience?”

He suppresses a sigh and shakes his head. If anything, his time in the wasteland had shown him that not wanting sex actually wasn’t distressing or bothersome when left to his own devices. With no pressure to conform, no love to please, he had been fine. Lonely, yes. Mad with grief and rage, of course. But never wanting it, never feeling like his desire had been taken away from him. His mind was a true shit show of nightmares and bad memories, but it didn’t rob him of what he never had.

“Don’t you feel like that’s missing? Like it’s wrong somehow? Not that you’re wrong Max, no, there’s nothing wrong with you.” She adds this hastily, probably seeing him tense at the implication. “But isn’t wanting sex normal? Do you want to want it?”

“I…” fuck it’ll take so many words to get across what he needs to. “I know it’s not normal, not how most people feel. But it doesn’t feel wrong, doesn’t feel _abnormal_. Like, how Capable can write with both her hands, yeah? That’s not normal, but it’s not bad that she can.” That’s probably a terrible example, but it’s what he has. And Furiosa is nodding like it makes sense, so, yay.

“I did want to be attracted to people like that, but, um, only because it was what they wanted. Not because I wished to. Even for you…” He licks his lips, darts his eyes away and then back again. “I tried since I knew that would make you happy. If, if I’m by myself, it’s fine. It’s not missing, not taken from me. ‘S normal, for me. Different, but fine. Really.”

“And you said you’re not gay? Are you sure? I’ve known guys who swore up and down they weren’t gay, and then realized they were. I know it can be hard, being like that, but if it made you happy…” She looks away and Max realizes with a lurch that he hasn’t explained the most important thing.

“Furi, no. I’m not gay, I promise. I’m not attracted to anyone like that. Sexually, I mean. But I do,” he takes a deep breath, pressing as much conviction and truth into his tone as possible, forcing himself to enunciate when all he wants to do is avert his gaze and mumble this into the pillow. “I do still love you. I meant that. I am attracted to you, ah, want to be with you. Just not, um, with sex.”

“I don’t understand. You love me but you don’t want to have sex? Ever?” She’s not trying to be rude or insensitive, he knows that, but there’s the familiar wash of guilt at her words. No matter what he says or does, no matter how much he gives her, if he can’t give her _that_ then their relationship is meaningless. There’s no other option, sex _is_ love, that’s what he’s been told over and over. Every loving relationship is supposed to lead there, and if it doesn’t, well, you must not really love me. Or you’re just a fag, repressed, a perv.

“Max? Hey, I’m sorry, sorry, it’s okay.” He blinks Furiosa back into focuses and realizes that he’s breathing hard. Her hand is cupping his cheek and he focuses on that pressure, grounds himself in the feel of her. He sees the affection and worry on her eyes, notes that it isn’t contempt. He can still clarify.

“Sorry, I just. It’s hard to explain, but I’m still attracted to you. Even without sex, I want to be with you. Want to hold you, trust you. I like, um, like kissing you, talking to you. I… love all those things and don’t want it to stop. But it’s not building towards anything, there’s no desire for more, I can’t. I just… have this. That’s all.”

There. He said it, as best he’s able, the only way he knows make sense of it. There’s the urge to add “Please Furiosa, accept this, accept _me_.” But he can’t guilt her into this. She has to decide whether he can be enough for her or not. No one else can make that choice for her.

She’s still touching his face, running her fingers rhythmically though his hair. Her eyes are filled with wonder and pain as she looks at him. “Max,” is her near silent whisper, and then she’s kissing him.

And oh, her lips are like a balm on him, like a consolation for his mental turmoil. She’s rolled on top and is holding him, hand tucked underneath his head. “Of course you’re enough, you, you’ve _always_ …” She’s talking in between kisses, soft sighs on his lips. “If I can be enough without it, if you don’t want it from someone else, if you’re _sure_. I’ll do whatever you want, as long as it’s with you.”

He thinks he might be crying, is pretty sure the wetness on his cheeks is from his own tears. But it doesn’t matter, they’re tears of relief, of joy. He doesn’t think his heart was built to contain this much happiness, so it’s spilling out of him. Because she’s saying yes, saying he’s _enough_ like this. It’s almost too much, the alleviation of all that stress and fear he hadn’t realized he was holding so tightly.

He doesn’t know how long they’re like this, holding each other, kissing and (for him) crying. Eventually they wind down, both on their sides, with Furiosa holding his head at the crook of her neck as he clutches her, breathing hard.

“I, I’m so…” He pauses, trying to gather his thoughts, figure out what he needs to say.

“Don’t say your sorry Max. Please, you have nothing to be sorry for. Neither of us do.”

“No, yeah no, not, not sorry. Just I’m… glad.” He pulls away to look at her. ‘Glad’ isn’t the right word, isn’t strong enough to encompass what he means. But she’s smiling at him like she knows, and really, that’s enough. That she knows, how happy, how relieved he is.

They still have a lot to talk about and work through. Furiosa’s sex drive isn’t going to switch off, just like his isn’t going to switch on., They’ll have to figure out what that looks like practically for both of them. There will be more conversations, probably containing some awkwardness and discomfort.

But the morning sun is streaming in brightly now, signaling that they’re probably missing breakfast. They need to get up, both have work to do. And she still loves him, which is all Max really needs right now. He murmurs it to her, just to hear her say it back. Just to get those three words from her lips to his heart, where they’ll warm him through the days and nights to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I am open to constructive criticism and feedback, especially if you identify as asexual. Or if not, still drop me a comment with your thoughts!


End file.
